Love Sacrifice
by RayneSummer
Summary: She was a mother, but she wasn't really. Just another older sibling doing her job. And her job is cut short when Sam and Dean come in to their haunted house. He little sister will be sacrificed, but can they stop it, or will the ritual have to be complete? Outsiders POV, first person, very sad ending. "I'm sorry. Forgive me. It's not your fault"


**So I felt emotional and felt like writing and this happened. It's kind of about signing because I'm still obsessed with that, and so I wove it into Supernatural. It ends really sadly, but I hope it's good; it's my first story from first person and an outsider. Please review. I'm sorry it's so sad, but it's Supernatural.**

* * *

I work at a signing school at day, and rest at my new house at night. Simple, you would think - and it is. But then there was the little problem of one day, when I realised I was haunted. That was also the day I met Sam and Dean Winchester. And I lost my sister.

It was a normal day. I signed to the children as I read them a story. I work with the younger ones, from ages three to six or seven. I've worked there for about five years now and have known sign language for a few years longer than that. This is because my only daughter, who is fifteen, is almost completely deaf. She has hearing aids that allow her to hear enough to lip read quite well, and can talk a little, but we mainly sign at home.

So there I was, reading a story to the children. They laugh at my facial expressions and way of elaborate signing. I love it when the children laugh; I can hear it, because I'm not really deaf. A little hard of hearing, but with my own hearing aids, I can hear quite clearly. Meaning I am the perfect person for the job, if I do say so myself.

I smiled as I put the book away and signed to children as I said _"Story time's over; home time!" _They laughed and all got up, scrambling to get bags and coats to go home. I saw them out the door and to their parents, then sighed and turned back to go in and clean up. This was unfortunately my job at the moment, as it was on a weekly rota.

I finished the clearing up without hassle and went out to the parking lot, into my car, and drove home. It was after five by then, so I began making dinner. I called my daughter down, loudly, yelling "Alisha!" up the stairs. She heard me and came down. We ate dinner as we talked and signed about our day.

The day was normal, as I have said. It was the night when strange things began happening.

Alisha went to bed at her normal time of ten'o'clock. I watched TV and played on my laptop for a few more hours, before heading to bed myself after midnight. I went to sleep quickly, tired from the day.

I woke up at four in the morning. Disorientated, I wondered what had woke me. I was too tired to really concentrate, so I simply curled up to go back to sleep after a moment. Then I heard it again. What had woken me; a whimper. It was my child's, I knew that much. I know how Alisha sounds.

Quickly and quietly, I got up and crept towards my door. I opened it carefully and walked out, heading down the hallway to my daughter's room. I peeked in, finding the door slightly ajar. And what I saw almost made my heart stop.

There was a man, ghostly and horrible looking, standing over her, a hand over her mouth. She whimpered again, having not seen me, as the man leaned in close to her. He said something in this horrible scratchy voice, that sounded like "I need you."

I was a second away from either getting in that room - there was a chair against the door that prevented easy access but not impossible - or calling the police, when Alisha screamed.

The sound shocked through me and I jumped as a loud sound came from behind me, and blinked, and suddenly, the ghost was gone, and Alisha was there, lying on her bed and crying.

I felt some kind of presence behind me, but ignored it for now, kicking the door to get to my daughter as I yelled her name. I hadn't put my hearing aids in, so sounds were a little fuzzy and quiet, but I couldn't worry about that, I needed to get to her.

Suddenly, someone grabbed me from behind, pulling me back, and just as I yelled "no! I need to get to her!", a man ran past me, where I was being held back, and kicked the door in forcefully.

I heard the chair splinter as the door finally opened fully, and I wrenched myself out of the grip whoever it was had on my, hurtling past the man standing by the door, into the room, grabbing my daughter and forcing her to look at me.

"Did he hurt you?" I asked urgently, checking her over with my eyes for injuries. Then I realised she didn't have her hearing aids in, meaning she couldn't hear a lot at all, which would explain why she didn't respond to my shouts earlier.

I took her by the shoulders, then when she was focused on me, signed gently _Are you alright? Did he hurt you?_

She shook her head, still sobbing a little, and signed back _No, but I was so scared. What just happened?!_

I shrugged helplessly, realising I had no idea. And then I remembered the people outside. I glanced behind me, and two men stared back, their faces concerned.

"Who are you?" I asked, not accusingly, but warily. And then, as an afterthought, added "and do you have any idea what the hell just happened?"

They exchanged grim looks and the one that had kicked the door in earlier, who was the taller one out of the two as well, said quietly "it was a ghost. We dispersed it with rock salt, but it'll come back. We need to defeat it."

I frowned; I could only just about hear him, so he needed to speak up. I was about to tell him so, when Alisha tugged at my sleeve and signed when I looked at her _Who are they? What are they saying?_

I looked around and caught sight of her hearing aids on the bedside table - at least they were on hand. I quickly grabbed them and offered them to her to fit while I talked with the men. She nodded and gave me a small smile in thanks as she started putting them in her ears.

I turned back to the men. "Who are you?" I asked again, more insistently. The smaller one, who hadn't yet spoken, said "Dean Winchester, and this is my brother, Sam. We're here to save you from that ghost."

I stared at him. What even? "You mean to tell me you're like ghosthunters?" I asked skeptically.

The one called Dean rolled his eyes. "Kinda, but don't say that ever again," he replied wearily. I nodded and looked around.

"But what just happened?" I asked, repeating the other question from before.

"If was a ghost," the taller one - Sam - explained. "We think your house is haunted and we need to find out who the ghost is and burn the bones to get rid of it, or it's going to hurt you."

I took a deep breath. I wake up, early hours of the morning, find a ghost - supposedly - trying to apparently hurt my daughter, then get talked to so matter of factly by some ghosthunters or whatever. I really need to sleep more, this must be sleep deprivation.

"A ghost?" I verified, and then Alisha tapped me on the shoulder. I was sitting in front of her on the bed now, facing the men. I turned and faced her instead.

_"Mum, who are these people?" _She asked while she signed, staring at the men suspiciously. I sighed.

"Apparently this place is haunted," I replied matter of factly, the way the men had done. I wasn't expecting her reaction.

"Of course it is! My friends were telling me about this story a few days ago at school, after we moved in," she told me, her eyes wide and suddenly fearful as she dropped the signing in order to tell the story to it's full degree. "Apparently, a man lived here, centuries ago. He was lonely, and so got a wife to marry him. But one night, driven insane by her company because he was used to being alone, he slit her throat as she lay in bed. Before she died, she begged him to forgive himself, because she knew it wasn't his fault. Supposedly, in the morning, horrified of what he had done, he killed himself by hanging in the attic. Apparently, his bones are still up there, waiting for the next victim to go up so he can come back as a ghost and kill them in bed in the early hours of the morning..."

I stared at her after she told the story. There was silence apart from a chiming of a clock somewhere. It was half four in the morning. I glanced at the men, who's faces were set in realisation, and then back at Alisha, who was staring at me in horror and fear still.

_I went into the attic yesterday to have a look around_, she signed silently, not wanting to reveal her stupidity to the men. Her eyes bugged as she blurted out "and it's the early hours of the morning!", in her panic forgetting that she was signing silently to me.

I tried to calm her, as you would with any child. "It's okay, it just sounds like a stupid folk tale," I soothed, holding her close as she began to cry in earnest, believing to be killed by some ghost.

I glanced uneasily at the men as they watched. "Unfortunately, she's right," I clarified, and sighed. "Listen, we just moved in last week, because we needed to move from a flat, because it was too small. I had heard the rumors, but... you know." I hesitated. "I thought they were just, well, rumors. How could anything like that be true?" I asked, suddenly begging for them not to tell me it was true. But I could already see it in their eyes.

"Oh god," I whimpered, and buried my face in my daughter's hair. She was really going to be killed in bed by a ghost. Wow, sometimes your life just completely freaking sucks, doesn't it.

I heard one of the men step forward. "Your daughter isn't going to die," he said firmly, and I looked up, glaring at him. It was the smaller one.

"A death sentence has basically just been placed on her head, and you're trying to make me feel better. Sheesh, aren't you good funeral directors," I replied sarcastically.

"No, really, if we can torch the ghost's bones, she's survive." The other one spoke this time; Sam. I glanced at him despairingly.

"But how are you going to do that?" I asked, with a humorless snort. "He died ages ago, there's going to be no bones left."

The one called Dean shook his head. "There has to be, else he wouldn't be here. We need to go to the attic and burn them, and you have to come with us so he can't get to you." At my incredulous look, he sighed and added "you're safer with us."

Unfortunately, I would rather be with these ghosthunters than on a bed with my daughter who was destined to die. I nodded in determination. "Okay. Let's go."

The men looked at me in slight surprise. "That's it? You just accept it?" the taller one, Sam, asked in amazement.

I nodded cooly. "Well, when your only other family member is going to die unless you accept it and get on with the saving, what else am I going to do?"

They stared at me, and Dean smirked. "Right. Let's go!"

I pulled Alisha up, who had stopped crying and had actually been following the conversation these past few minutes. _I'm not going to die? _She signed to me timidly. I smiled forcefully and shook my head.

_"Gonna take more than a ghosty to make me loose my daughter,"_ I signed and said back, coaxing a smile out of her too. And just like that, we were ready to go.

* * *

The four of us crept up the stairs to the top floor. It was an old dusty place, the attic, full of cobwebs and boxes. I hadn't been up there myself, but it was how I had imagined an attic such as this. Alisha coughed as we walked into the room. It was so thick with dust that it was hard to see, like fog.

I heard one of the men say "Alright. Where's this guy's bones, then?" from behind me.

Alisha turned and replied "In the corner furthest from the door." A pause. "That's all I know," she added quietly.

I glanced back at the boys, who exchanged a look, and then both started cautiously for the furthest corner. The taller one gave me a nod and encouraging smile as he passed, adding "stay here," while trying to ensure everything was fine.

I knew it wasn't.

The trouble started from the moment the men carefully crossed some kind of half way line.

There was a small crash from the side, and something fell of the shelf for some reason even though no one was around there. Creepy. And then the ghost made an appearance. A not-at-all-happy-about-being-disturbed appearance.

It literally appeared in front of the taller man, Sam, and put out a hand to grab him, growling terrible curses under his breath. Before it could get him, however, the other man, Dean, shot it. Literally.

Then I realised how they had made the spirit dissipate before, back in Alisha's room. Because the same thing happened now. One moment there, the next, it was gone. Sam nodded his thanks to the other.

"Be careful, Sammy," Dean warned, a little teasing. "Don't want big brother to always have to rescue the damsel in distress!"

I stared in amazement with a smile on my face. They were brothers. That made total sense, and it seemed Dean was the big brother.

But the bitchface Sam was giving Dean was wasted as the ghost appeared behind him, this time, and stepped on the floorboards. I realised what he was doing a second before it happened.

"Sam, watch out!" I yelled in panic just as Sam's expression turned to one of realisation and then shock as he suddenly disappeared from his place, and only a dull and harsh thump could be heard as he fell through the floor boards.

"Sammy!" Dean was desperate, searching for his brother, to make sure he was okay. First, he shot the ghost with salt, then looked down and panic where Sam had fallen. I had an idea.

"Dean, you stop the ghost! I'll go check on Sam!" I called to him. Dean glanced at me, his face a picture of fear, and then his resolve stiffened and he nodded, once again heading to the corner.

I turned to Alisha and said urgently "you stay here, okay, keep an eye on Dean. I'm going downstairs."

Her eyes wide with fear, she nodded nonetheless, and I kissed her on the forehead before rushing out and down the stairs. I found Sam on the floor, in a mess of floorboards, just below the attic, thankfully meaning he hadn't fallen far.

"Sam!" I called, partly in relief. But he didn't respond and my panic rose. Dammit. I knew some nursing skills, but if the kid was badly hurt then I didn't know what to really do. They didn't seem the type for a general hospital trip.

I knelt down next to him and scanned his body. He looked a little bruised, but fine apart from that. He had a small head wound, that was bleeding sluggishly, but nothing fatal. At least, I hoped not.

Carefully I stroked his hair back, checked the scratch. It looked okay, once the blood was wiped away with my nightshirt, and I sighed a secret sigh of relief. But that still did leave me with an unconscious man and a whole heap of problems.

There was another crash from above, and I looked up nervously as some plaster trickled down. I hoped Dean would be able to stop the ghost. If not, then we were kind of all doomed.

I looked back down at Sam. He looked vulnerable in unconsciousness, like anything could hurt him. I didn't like that. He was so strong before, now he just looked so weak. And that saddened me.

And then I got another problem. Just great.

The ghost, deciding or realising that me and Sam were better targets, suddenly appeared near us, and grinning that horrible, evil, smile of him. He advanced, and I knew I was helpless in defense. Sam was still out of it and I didn't know what to do...

Just then, it looked sharply upwards, and screamed in a strange way before disintegrating in a burst of flames. I blinked in surprise. Oh. It must be over.

But the screaming was still going on, and then there were crashes from above, and I realised who it was - Alisha.

My daughter, screaming, and the crashes were growing louder, and I heard Dean's yell, and then silence. Compete and absolute.

Sam finally began stirring under my hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and was immediately alert.

"What - what? Where's Dean?" he asked urgently,staring at me. I looked up, speechless and in shock, and he followed my gaze as we looked at the hole Sam had fallen through. It wasn't there any more.

The ceiling had fallen in.

* * *

I couldn't think straight. That meant - it probably meant - I had lost her. My sister.

Oh, what a time to loose her. It was her 16th birthday in a week's time; I was going to tell her that actually, I was her sister, not her mother, only five years older than her. Our mother left us long ago, I had to look after her. Our father was never known. I had faked my age and cared for my sister like a mother, leading her to believe so, and I hadn't corrected her right.

Now she was gone.

No. _No._

I wouldn't believe it. I couldn't believe it. So much, I...

There was another, small, crash, closer now. And then, Dean walked into the hallway. With Alisha. But I say only Dean walked, because he did. My dear sister lay in his arms, and he couldn't even look up from her face, pale and eyes closed.

I knew immediately.

Sam and I stared at them, him still sitting in the mess of floorboards. Slowly, Dean raised his eyes to look, first at Sam, then at me, straight in my eyes.

"I'm sorry."

It was all he said. I didn't need any more. No explanation, no nothing. I just needed her. And now. She was gone.

I slowly stood up. Beckoned him. Walked into my bedroom. Pointed to the bed. He didn't need anything else.

He put her down, gently, softly. He stepped back, to the doorway where his brother was leaning against. She looked so peaceful, so at peace. And I realised something else. There had been no fire above us. Meaning he hadn't got rid of the ghost that way. Meaning...

I carefully touched her, the marble white and cold skin; I drew back her hair that covered her neck. Rope burns. And no sign of a struggle; no injuries.

She had wanted this.

I remembered the ghost's position. She must have known.

She had wanted this for me.

She had saved me. How she had known the story. She had always known. She had researched. And then she had realised; She was the youngest in the bloodline of the woman's death. Namely, our family.

I had guessed it before, but now I knew. I never thought there was any real threat. And now she lay dead. Because of me. For me.

I closed my eyes and a single tear slipped out.

The brothers watched silently from the doorway.

I looked at my only sibling, the way the others had looked at each other. They had guessed.

I sighed. "Goodbye, sister."

* * *

So that is my story.

Yes, strange and twisting, I know. Maybe it's not believable, maybe it's not emotional enough.

But I wasn't that emotional when my sister died. The reason is simple. Freedom is like a rope.

I have never blamed Sam and Dean for what happened. I know why it happened, and what for. It's not their fault.

I had invited them to the funeral, and they came. As the flames danced up towards the never ending stars, we watched her burn.

I had glanced at the brothers and saw pain in their eyes. God knows how many times they have watched a family or friend burn. Too many.

Then we had departed. Dean gave me a final gift - Alisha's last words. Just before they got in their car, he leaned forward and whispered in my ear: "I'm sorry. Forgive yourself. It is not your fault, my faithful sister."

I had nodded silently. Glad she had known. Dean had gave me a single nod, his face so full of loss and longing and grief. I don't know how many times he has lost Sam. I didn't ask. I just saw it in his eyes.

Then they were gone, and I was back in my house.

Now I sit here, having barely been able to get in. I shoved my way past all the plaster and roof to come and sit in this corner of the attic.

Despite my sister's sacrifice, I know the ritual isn't finished yet. By the time Sam and Dean realise, I will be long gone too. No doubt they'll burn me the way we burnt my sister. Together. One more life lost.

But what's it to me?

_The rope around my neck_

I don't know if this was meant to be a test or something

_Tied to the rafter_

But I'm sure we passed

_The same place two have already died_

And you know what?

_The last one to complete the sacrifice_

I like it best that way

_She smiles as she puts down the paper for the hunters to find when they return in thirty minutes. She closes her eyes, the smile remaining on her face, as she allows the rope to tighten, to hang her. It does. The smile remains on her face as her spirit joins the family._

_She will still be smiling when the brothers who have lost so much find her, her skin as pale and cold as marble. And the family sacrifice is complete._

**_I'm sorry. Forgive me. This is not your fault, my friends._**


End file.
